


Fill His Hands

by sharkie335



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're never going to be able to sleep like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fill His Hands

John limped back to his quarters from the infirmary. Pulled muscles sucked. They sucked even more when they were in his thigh, so that there wasn't much that Carson could do except give him anti-inflammatories and his choice of beds - the infirmary (boring, public, made him look like a wimp in front of Ronon) or his own room, (where _War and Peace_ would taunt him, it was probably going to be lonely, but hey! Ronon wouldn't have to know that he'd been confined to bed for forty-eight hours). He'd chosen his own room, and refused the wheelchair ride there, but now he was regretting it.

He managed to get inside without any mishaps, but when he contemplated taking his clothes off - and worse, his boots - his leg threatened to collapse under him. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, he limped over to the bed and sat down. That hurt worse, pulling on the muscle in new and painful ways, so he quickly laid down and resigned himself to an uncomfortable night.

Just as he finally found a comfortable position, the door chimed. Sighing, he shouted, "Come in," even as the door was already opening. Rodney walked in, coming to a halt just inside the door and putting his hands on his hips. "You're never going to be able to sleep like that," he said. "What the hell was Carson thinking, letting you out of the infirmary?"

"He was thinking that I refused to be there another minute, and so he'd better release me before I left anyway?" But John couldn't help the hopeful look that he was giving Rodney.

Two steps brought Rodney across the room, and he immediately tackled the laces on John's boots, muttering all the while. When he tugged them off, John couldn't help the small whimper at the way it forced him to bend his leg, and Rodney glared at him. "You could still be in the infirmary, you know. With people actually _trained_ to do this."

Swallowing down the other noises that he wanted to make, John nodded. "I know. And I appreciate that you're here."

Rodney's chest inflated with pride, and John fought to keep the smirk hidden. Sometimes Rodney really was too easy. Rodney - whose hands were plenty gentle when he wanted them to be - helped him sit up a little bit, and slid his t-shirt off, then they drifted down to his belt, which was unfastened with the same gentleness. Without thinking, John arched his hips to let Rodney tug his pants down, only to end up flat on his back and cursing when his leg registered complaints about it.

"Well, that was stupid," Rodney said, hands on his hips. John couldn't say anything, too focused on breathing through the pain. When he was recovered somewhat, Rodney nodded to himself and said, "This time, _don't_ try to help, okay? Just let me do this."

Feeling pretty dumb, John nodded, and then had to force himself to lie still as Rodney slowly worked his pants over his hips and down his legs. The slow, steady pace had a predictable effect on his libido, now that he was lying still and the pain in his leg was subsiding between the lack of movement and the drugs that Carson had given him before he left the infirmary.

Rodney looked at his dick, tenting the front of his boxers, and smiled, mouth twisting up on one side. "Is there nothing that'll keep you down?"

John just shook his head and grinned back, abashed. He didn't honestly expect Rodney to do something about the hard on that he was currently sporting, mostly because he couldn't think of anything that Rodney _could_ do. Any movement on his part led to excruciating pain, and that wasn't conducive to getting off.

When Rodney bent and ran the back of his hand up the underside of John's cock, he sucked in a breath and fought the urge to move into the touch. Rodney smiled again, and got an expression on his face that John recognized. It was his "I'm thinking" face.

But when Rodney sat on the edge of his bed and started to unlace his boots, he felt like he had to say something. "Um, Rodney, I don't know what you think I'm going to be able to do."

Rodney just twisted so that he could kiss John and then turned his attention back to his boots. "Are you a genius? No? Then I suggest you just relax and let me handle this, right?"

John couldn't help snickering, and Rodney looked puzzled for a moment before he realized what he said. "Ha, ha, very funny, John. What are you? Twelve?"

He was saved from answering when Rodney stood and dropped his pants, including his boxers. Seeing Rodney's cock always turned him on, especially when it was like this - half hard and showing every sign of going fully hard in moments. He made a small sound - that was _not_ a whimper, dammit - and reached out, managing to touch Rodney on one hairy thigh.

Rodney smiled down at him and yanked off his shirt, then swung one leg up and over so that he was kneeling, straddling John's thighs. One of his hands landed on John's cock, and John might have almost believed it was an accident if he didn't know that Rodney didn't make those kinds of accidents. "I guess it wouldn't be very nice of me to leave you with this, would it?"

Making a hopeful noise, John fought the urge to buck up into Rodney's hand. As if Rodney knew how hard it was for him, he settled his weight more firmly across John's thighs. "Don't move, John. If you move, I'll stop." Before John could say anything in agreement, Rodney was tugging John out through the slit in his boxers. The feeling of his hand, hot and firm against his cock, made John moan softly.

John forced open eyes that had closed, and looked at Rodney, who was staring at the cock in his hand. He was barely moving, just slight little shifts that sparked pleasure across John's brain with every breath. Gradually, his hand tightened, and started to move with slow deliberation, up and then back.

Rodney had only given him two or maybe it was three good strokes when he stopped. John had to admit that this time, it was a whimper that got loose before he could stop it. But Rodney just leaned over to the nightstand and pulled out the bottle of lube, pouring a small amount into his hand before wrapping it around John's cock again.

It was warm and slick, and John wanted nothing more than to fuck up into Rodney's hand, but he knew Rodney well enough to know that he meant what he said, and that he'd stop if John moved. So he took two fistfuls of the blanket and bit his lip, focused on his breathing to keep from begging.

Rodney didn't seem to notice, moving at the same steady pace, up and back on John's cock. It was too slow and too light to get John off, but it was definitely enough to keep him turned on and dying for more. He looked from Rodney's face, lost in concentration, to his hand, and wanted nothing more than to get Rodney to go faster.

He was teasing; he had to be, because John knew that Rodney knew how he liked it - fast and hard, enough to bring a grown man to his knees. Instead, he was getting this light touch. But he wasn't going to beg. He wasn't.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? If Rodney wanted him to beg, he'd beg. And he was going to start right now, because Rodney had added a twist of his wrist to his motions, and it was both more than John could take and not enough at the same time. "Oh, god. Please, Rodney. Please?"

"Please what, John?" Rodney's face reflected none of the arousal that he had to be feeling. He looked as if he was observing something a little interesting, but John could feel his cock brushing against John's own.

John whimpered and bit his lip, but when Rodney's hand tightened slightly, he broke. "Please, more. I want - need to come. Please?"

Rodney sped up, just the slightest bit, hand twisting its way up the shaft of John's cock to the head. With every stroke, he tightened his fingers a little more, went a little faster. It wasn't as good as being inside Rodney, but it was still good, oh, so good. John was panting harshly, fighting the urge of his body to fuck into Rodney's hand. "Close," he grated out.

At that, Rodney's hand started to speed along his cock, each stroke feeling like a little bit of heaven, and John could feel his orgasm coiling in his balls, just waiting for - Rodney scraped his thumbnail across the spot at the base of the head of John's cock, and that was it, he was gone. He came hard, spraying his own stomach and chest with his come. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing, trying to regain something of his control.

Rodney's motions attracted his attention, and he opened his eyes, to see Rodney's hand flying along his cock, twisting at the tip. His lip was caught between his teeth, and he was panting through his nose. John thought he'd never seen anything as hot as Rodney was right this moment, and his cock gave a twitch of agreement.

Then Rodney groaned, low and luxurious, and was coming over his fist, on John's stomach and cock, and he had to readjust his thinking, because this was the hottest thing ever. Rodney slowed his hand and opened his eyes, smiling down at John. "How's that? Better?"

John realized that he could barely feel the pain in his leg, and gave Rodney a thumb's up before closing his eyes again. He thought that maybe he could sleep now.

He vaguely heard Rodney moving around the room, and then a warm wet cloth cleaned off his belly and chest. Blankets were tugged up, covering him to the waist, and soft lips pressed against his forehead. "I'll be back later," Rodney whispered, and then he left.

John just floated in contentment. Maybe when Rodney came back, he'd be able to convince him to let John blow him, but in the meantime, this was pretty damn good.

And there was no Ronon laughing at him, which was always a plus.


End file.
